


The Long Way Back

by bob2ff



Series: Miracles Hijinks [15]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Humor, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 15:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1783309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob2ff/pseuds/bob2ff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The distance from Kaijou’s gym to the dorms is pretty much walkable. The distance between between two people, however, is much harder to bridge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Way Back

**Author's Note:**

> Written for BPS' Challenge 73 (Travel).

“Why are you following me?” Kasamatsu demanded. Kise gave his best smile, the one that made product executives fall over themselves trying to hire him.

“I’m new, senpai! Could you show me the shortcut to the dorms?” Kasamatsu just rolled his eyes, and walked ahead. “Come on!” he called back. Kise’s smile broke from the charming veneer to sincerity, as he hurried after him.

And so began Kise and Kasamatsu’s daily trek back from their practice session.

As most people did, Kasamatsu found Kise to be _exhausting_ to be around, at least at first. He was too _pretty_ , too _perfect_ — and there was Kise’s constant upholding of himself to a grueling standard. His punishing standard of poise, perfection, to be worthy of adoration. 

Kasamatsu could not imagine getting along with this type of guy at all. Kasamatsu was too _ordinary_ , even for a nationally-ranked point guard, when compared to someone like Kise Ryouta. Unlike the idiot, to whom things would come so easily, Kasamatsu worked his ass off for every little accomplishment. 

Streetlamps and telephone cables lined the streets they walked by, on their way back to the dorms. The walk was at most twenty minutes. To Kasamatsu, however, the walk was a test. He was a captain, and he had to lead. But he was leading a _Miracle_. Before he could even begin to lead Kise, he had to somehow assert that someone with a basketball capability below Kise’s could be _worthy_ of leading the brat. 

The short distance between the gym and the dorms was Kasamatsu’s challenge — to command the respect of someone who expected others to adore and respect _him_.

He wished he could strategize this the way he did basketball matches. But because this was Kise, there was no introspective silence, no reflective moment of calm and respite for Kasamatsu to plan. 

Instead — “Senpai! Look, B-ball Monthly featured Touou! Aominechii looks so cool!” Or, “Midorimachii used to tape his fingers. Do _you_ think I should tape my fingers too, senpai?”

Kise could hardly shut up about the Miracles. By the end of the first week, Kasamatsu had enough. 

“And then Akashichii was —” Kise’s daily spiel was abruptly cut off when Kasamatsu turned on him and demanded, “Are you Kaijou’s Kise or Teikou’s Kise?”

In the late evening sun, the streetlamps were lighting up, one by one. They reflected off Kise’s eyes, magnifying the shock and hurt in them. Kasamatsu immediately regretted being too blunt. He was still getting used to this whole captain thing, and even though Kise was a spoilt Miracle brat, Kaijou needed him. 

So Kasamatsu swallowed the words he still wanted to say (“You talk about _them_ all the damn time,” and “Stop acting like you’re in Teikou again.”). He still wanted to give the brat a berating. But Coach Takeuchi had threatened joint practice with Kaijou’s female basketball team if Kasamatsu chased away their newest, most valuable acquisition. So he attempted to be gentler. At least as gentle as Kasamatsu could be.

“Look, um —” Kasamatsu began, but then Kise laughed over him. The glassy veneer of Kise’s charm slipped back on, and Kasamatsu was only now noticing it, as he looked at Kise straight in the face.

“Oh, senpai!” Kise laughed, and then his eyes sharpened, his vulnerabilities shrinking away behind the cruelty he wielded to hide his hurt, like a cornered, wounded animal. “Should you be saying things like this to me, when Kaijou needs me more than I need them?” 

He smiled, all charm and sweetness, callousness knifing the edges of his words. “None of you can measure up to Teikou, so maybe you should learn some things from them.”

Gentleness be damned. Kasamatsu kicked him (Kise wailed.) “I’m your _captain_. I have every right to talk to you like this, especially when you’re being such a disrespectful brat!” 

He stomped ahead of Kise. “Instead of looking down on Kaijou, and comparing it to Teikou, get used to being here.”

He peered at him sideways, lofty and challenging. “You may think Kaijou needs to work to deserve you, but _you’re_ the one who needs to work to deserve Kaijou.” To deserve _me_ as your captain, the words rang loudly unsaid.

Kasamatsu-senpai’s back was a little different from Aominechii’s, Kise thought, as he stared at it. And he did not just mean the size or height. It was less insurmountable, in the sense that it had the openness of inviting Kise to one day walk next to him.

*** 

After a while, Kasamatsu realized something. Kise was walking a step behind him. Then he realized, Kise _always_ walked a step behind him. Kasamatsu was the one who always inadvertently ended up leading the way. 

He was about to demand what Kise’s problem was when he felt cold dread and fear sinisterly creep and thrum under his skin, making their way to his heart. A group of girls were approaching them, giggling nervously as they played with the ends of their hair, and gave bashful glances at Kise. 

Kasamatsu wondered why this had not happened earlier. After all, this was dratted _Kise_. Then he wondered why he had gotten himself into this, walking back to the dorms with Kise every day after practice.

“Kasamatsu-senpai, have you met—” Kise was about to introduce them when he peered closer at Kasamatsu’s face. “Senpai, are you alright?”

Kasamatsu was bright red, and choking. He gripped Kise by the collar and dragged him off, as the girls wailed for “Kise-kun” and stared after them in dismay.

“Senpai, it hurts~...” Kise whined as Kasamatsu dragged him off. He straightened, and smiled at Kasamatsu. Despite his rising suspicion, Kasamatsu was glad to see the smile was sincere. The facade Kise sometimes put on made him uncomfortable. It was like seeing a wound being bandaged poorly — the mask only came on when the hurt was worst, and when Kise could not quite help the rawness he still revealed in his pain. 

“Are you uncomfortable around girls, senpai?” Kise asked, eyes twinkling. The annoying sparkles that Kise seemed to command through mere winks magically appeared, glittering around him, enhancing his infuriating prettiness.

“Shut up,” Kasamatsu walked faster. “I’m just not used to them, that’s all.” Then, as Kise caught up to him easily, remaining a step behind, he kicked him. “You shouldn’t be getting distracted with girls, anyway! You should be focusing on training.”

Privately, though, he was proud of the brat’s progress during practice. He had been working very hard. He was on track to being worthy of Kaijou.

“I can organize a gokon if it would help you with girls, senpai,” Kise suggested earnestly. “Moriyama-senpai would be thrilled. We can do karaoke!” his steps skipped next to Kasamatsu’s eagerly. 

Kasamatsu tried going ahead of Kise. “If you want to sing so much, we can just do one on our own, with the team. I can bring my guitar.” He could bear through Kise’s horrendous singing if it meant no girls. Just please, no girls, he thought, repressing a shudder. 

Kise’s eyes shone. “You can play the guitar, senpai?” Despite still feeling that damned insecurity, and embarrassment, from his one sore weakness and inability to act around girls, Kasamatsu felt the rush of pleasure that came whenever Kise gushed about something senpai did that was ‘so cool,’ or hung on to his every word because ‘senpai knows best.’

It felt good to have someone admiring you. It felt good to have someone, a _Miracle_ no less, acknowledging you as someone worthy to be looked up to. 

Kasamatsu walked ahead, hiding a smile, hearing Kise’s footsteps just a step behind.

***

The streetlamps were late in lighting up today, a rare occasion. As such, the evening sun had already set as Kasamatsu and Kise made their way back to the dorms, bathed in shadow. 

“Do you remember when I kept talking about the Miracles, senpai?” Kise’s voice was dull, devoid of his usual peppiness, and he stared at his feet stonily as he walked back, still a step behind Kasamatsu.

Kasamatsu nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, because he did not want Kise to know his voice as anything other than strong and commanding. He did not want Kise to hear his voice crack and weaken.

“I couldn’t tell you this then, because I wanted you and Kaijou to feel like I was better than you. I wanted you to want me more than I wanted you,” Kise’s voice was monotonous, devoid even of despair. The flatness was in a way more indicative of his anguish than any rage or pain in his voice ever could, because as long as Kasamatsu had to bear with his chirpiness, his voice had always been full of energy (even sometimes, too much).

“I kept talking about the Miracles because I am always trying to beat them.” In the darkness, Kasamatsu could not see Kise’s face very well. So he stared at Kise’s feet instead, shadows slowly emerging as the streetlamps finally started lighting up.

“You thought I didn’t work hard for most of my accomplishments, which is true. But I never work harder than when I don’t want to lose,” Kise’s voice broke from the flatness, and a half-hoarse sob was choked out.

Kasamatsu felt as useless as he had during their match against Touou, when he had watched Kise almost ruin his body trying to beat Aomine Daiki. That match had been a week ago, but Kasamatsu saw it like it had just happened yesterday. And Kise, who had spent every day since then sitting by the side during Kaijou’s practice, unable to do more than basic stretches so as to not exacerbate his injuries.

Kise, who had spent every day watching Kasamatsu and the team practice, feeling impotent by the side. In the darkest of his thoughts, Kasamatsu wondered if Kise looked at them and was disappointed in their ineptitude. If he looked at them and thought for sure that Kaijou definitely did not deserve him, or all the effort and pain he had put in for them. That Kasamatsu did not deserve to lead him.

“I’m proud of you, Kise,” Kasamatsu’s voice _did_ crack, but he was beyond caring at that point. He intentionally walked a step slower, so he was walking next to Kise. He tried to raise an arm to clap his hand on Kise’s shoulder, but somehow his arm wouldn’t move. It felt heavy, weighed down with his guilt, and his doubts.

Instead, he felt a hand around his forearm, gripping tight and warm. Kise had abruptly stopped. He had turned, facing Kasamatsu. His eyes were squeezed tight in an effort not to allow any tears.

“Senpai, I’ll make you even prouder during the Winter Cup.” He took a deep breath, and opened his eyes, smiling, looking straight at Kasamatsu. Heartbreakingly sincere, not even bothering with the charming veneer he usually ducked behind to hide his pain. “I promise.”

Kasamatsu’s throat felt embarrassingly dry, and he physically refrained from coughing. Tense with the effort not to tremble, he slammed a hand on Kise’s head. “Focus on healing well first, dumbass.”

They continued walking, and Kasamatsu kept pace with Kise. Side by side, they walked past the familiar cable-lined streets. 

“Have I become Kaijou’s Kise, senpai?” The hope in Kise’s voice gave Kasamatsu the same endearing rush of pleasure, the constant boost in Kasamatsu’s confidence to lead a team like Kaijou. A player like Kise.

Kasamatsu stared straight ahead. “That’s not for me to decide. That’s up to you to uphold.” He heard Kise’s exhale, the unsaid “Senpai is so cool.”

Then he slung an arm around Kise, bringing him near. Kise was damnably taller, so his blonde hair tickled Kasamatsu’s lips. “You’ve covered a lot of distance, though. You’ve come much closer.”


End file.
